The Family Holmes: At Last
by wen-parmadol
Summary: After an evening with John's friends, Sherlock is given reason to hope. Sort of Omega!verse, please read the warnings inside
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Bar

A/N: Evening, gents! I wasn't going to post this until after I posted all of Sherringford Manor, but soon my trip is going to be all camping for a long while, so I'm pushing forward what I have done. So there will be a few updates in the next few days, but afterwards it's going to be quiet for a bit. I'll probably be able to write still when I'm camping, but I can't be too sure. Anyways, here is the next story!

Warning: **PLEASE READ**. As I said in the summary, this sort of delves into omega!verse, but I don't think it quite qualifies. Sherlock is part werewolf, so I decided to give him some of the alpha traits that alpha/omegas do in those stories. PLEASE NOTE that I am not doing this for smut, though there is quite a bit of it in this story. I think I explain it alright why I did so, but if you want clarification message me/review and I will try to explain it more either by replying or another chapter or something. That said, there is smut in this story. If you read my other work, you'll see I usually skate around the subject of sex, though there is no denying it's there. This one I didn't skirt, sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. You should be sad, I bet you would like what I'd do.

If you were to ask Sherlock how he got to this point, he wouldn't have been able to tell you.

He certainly hadn't wanted to go out with John and his buddies, and he certainly didn't want to drink copious amounts of alcohol. Bill Murray had quite a way with words, however, and had managed to convince the detective to go out to the bar, along with Mike Stamford. Sherlock couldn't quite remember what he had said; something about Mary, he recalled. He would do anything he possibly could to spite her.

He hadn't wanted to engage in a drinking contest with Murray, either, but John said something about experiments and here they were; Sherlock having difficulties staying on his stool after losing spectacularly, though Murray wasn't much better. Mike was giggling next to the detective, and John…that's right. John went out to answer a phone call from dear old _Mary._

"I hate her," Sherlock whined at Bill. "She's always in the way. Life was good before she came around."

"I hear you, mate," Bill patted his back. "Women are like that."

"I wish he didn't need women," Sherlock groused. "Why can't I be good enough?"

"Because a man like John ne—hick—eeds intimacy," Mike was still giggling. "Are you giving him intimacy?"

"No," Sherlock frowned.

"Well, there you go," Bill said. "'Sides, he hardly needs a woman."

"What do you mean?" Bill looked sheepish, but Mike was nodding.

"John was known for a fling or two with men during med school," he said. "Wasn't hiding it or anything, though he wouldn't mention it unless you asked."

Bill looked relieved. "Good, so I didn't give out a dirty secret. There wasn't much women abroad of course, so John mostly settled for gents. Doesn't really help you, though."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked. He had to remind himself that though John might like guys, he wouldn't want Sherlock like that. Especially considering his problem.

"Well," Bill leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. The listeners leaned in eagerly as well, almost butting heads. "Like I said, it wasn't a secret that John batted for the same team. As long as the higher ups didn't hear about it, everything was fine, and quite a few men wanted to get their end in with him. Tail is tail, out in the desert. Johnny boy, however, wasn't going to just let anyone have a go. He earned quite a reputation."

"What reputation?" The others asked in unison, then shared a giggle.

"Well, they he was a…"

"On with it, man!" Sherlock ordered.

"They say he was a…size queen."

"No!" mike gasped.

"Yes," Bill was nodding. "The bigger the better. Actually, only the biggest. Most guys didn't stand a chance. I reckon that's why he only dates girls now. No one would be able to measure up."

"But he is so small!" Mike argued.

"That don't make no difference," Bill said, and they continued to bicker. Sherlock for his part was silent. Could it be true? All this time, Sherlock had been in agony, and it was for nothing? Well, maybe not nothing…

"Hey guys, what did I miss?" John was standing beside Sherlock now, a hand on his chair. All three men immediately started blushing and stammering, much to his confusion. "Alright then…Sherlock, I think we should be heading home now."

The detective nodded and stood up with minimal stumbling. The group gave a cheerful farewell, and the two headed out into the cold darkness. The flat was a welcome relief; even their booze jackets couldn't hold out against the winter air. Once inside they said quiet goodnights before heading to their respective rooms.

Sherlock had a lot to think about.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Get to the Point

A/N: Bonsoir, mes amis! The next and last chapter will be up shortly! Does it make you happy? Sad? A mixture of both? WARNING here comes the smut.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, or this would be the norm. Sucks for you, doesn't it?

Sherlock paced as John got ready for his date with Mary. It was the night after the pub conversation, and the detective had never felt so scattered. He had been a mess all day, though John thought it was because of the alcohol. Sherlock had recovered by noon. No, he just didn't know what to do.

"Well, I'm off, please eat something while I'm gone," John said as he headed for the door.

"Wait!" Sherlock exclaimed, abruptly sitting down on the couch. John turned to him quizzically. "I…I don't want you to go."

"As happy as I am that you are opening up to me, Sherlock, I can't just not go. Mary and I have been planning this date for awhile."

"I know, I just…I need to talk to you. Please?" Sherlock looked so small, so with a glance at his watch he sat beside his friend on the couch, placing a comforting hand on his knee. Sherlock grabbed it gratefully, squeezing tight.

"It's about something Bill Murray said last night."

"Oh lord, I can imagine what he said," John rubbed his forehead. "Well? What is it?"

"He—Well, he said that you have slept with men before. So did Mike."

"Jesus. Yeah, I did. This isn't going to be a problem, is it?" John was a bit fearful, but Sherlock gripped his hand a bit tighter.

"No, it isn't. It actually leaves me quite hopeful."

"Hopeful? Sherlock, you made it quite clear that you weren't into dating anyone, and I respected your wishes. This isn't a time for playing games."

"And you made it clear that you weren't gay. Who's playing games?" Sherlock sighed, releasing his anger.

"I hate it when people assume you have to be one way or the other, so no, I'm not gay. Stop deflecting."

"I'm not playing, John. You have come to mean the world to me. Surely you know this. I value your friendship more than anything else. It was only natural for those feeling to progress to a longing for your affection."

"Sherlock, you don't know how long I've wanted you to say that," John said, seriously. "I've always been attracted to you, I know you saw that. You said you were married to your work, though. I had given up all hope that you would want me that way. Why now?"

"You know how angry at my father I am. My biology is such that it makes it hard for me to connect with other people. I gave up intimacy at a young age, John. I never thought it would be possible for me."

"Oh, Sherlock," John tenderly rubbed his cheek. "I've resigned myself to getting only what you were willing to give, and I'm happy to do it. I love you, you know. Whatever you want to give me, whatever you can give me, I'll take. I'll want it. You don't have to hide yourself from me."

"I know that now, John," Sherlock whispered raggedly. "You are truly the most patient and best man I have ever known. Well, other than Mummy. It's hard, though, to let go of the past. How can I explain this…when I was a teenager, I lost my virginity to a girl very much like Molly Hooper. She was the sweetest girl I ever knew, and I think I might have loved her. During the act of copulation, I ended up hurting her terribly. I couldn't help it. She never spoke to me again, and I have never felt like such a monster until that day. That was when I swore off relationships, and sex."

"Oh Sherlock, first times are always messy and often painful," John tried to comfort. "It's understandable. You only get better with time."

"It isn't that simple John, though I wish it was," Sherlock pulled at his hair, taking deep breaths. "Bill told us you were a size queen in the army."

"The nerve of that man," John growled, then went back to soothing. "I was, Sherlock, but you don't have to worry about that. There are plenty of ways to have sex, without intercourse. Or we can use toys. I am quite fond of the ones I have. I love you, Sherlock, and like I said, I will take what I can get."

"I think I have to show you," Sherlock mumbled just loud enough for John to hear. "Give me a moment?" He went to the bathroom as John nodded, shutting the door quietly behind him. He leant over the sink for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Slowly, he unfastened his trousers, pulling his cock out of his briefs.

He palmed it, trying to make it grow, but he was too stressed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and thought about John. John after his shower, still dripping; John pulling rank in Baskerville; John sleeping in his bed at Sherringford Manor. Slowly his cock began to engorge, growing bigger and bigger as it pointed upwards.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" John asked outside the door. Sherlock told him to come in. "I was starting to get worri—good lord! You're huge!" The doctor couldn't take his eyes off of that magnificent dick, his mouth starting to water. He didn't believe that size was possible in real life.

"You see why it's so hard to be intimate with anyone?" Sherlock agonized, deflating a little. "I'm too big for anyone to take, and because of my alpha genes, I can't let anyone take me. I've tried, believe me, but just the thought of anyone trying to stick anything up there causes me to freak out."

"Oh Sherlock." John was sure Sherlock was still talking, but he was having a hard time focusing. To think, he thought he would have to sacrifice his sex life when he was with the detective. He was never so glad to be wrong.

"I understand if you don't want anything to do with me after this," Sherlock fretted. "Even you have to have limits. I've been driving myself crazy though since last night and I had to try—"

"Sherlock, come with me," John turned around quickly and marched up to his room, adjusting his arousal as he went. Sherlock followed silently, holding his trousers up. In the bedroom, John sat on his bed, pointing to his bedside table. "Open it."

Sherlock obeyed, gasping as he peered inside the drawer. Inside was a range of butt plugs and dildos of varying colors and sizes, along with lube and condoms. "Pull out the dark purple one and come sit by me."

The detective did as told looking at the dildo in awe. This was by far the largest in the drawer; his long fingers could hardly wrap around it, and it was about ten inches long; still shorter than his own cock, but close enough. John leaned in close, nosing at Sherlock's neck to elicit shivers. He breathed into Sherlock's ear, "I just used that one last night."

Sherlock found himself impossibly harder and gasping for air. "John..."

"Shh, relax," John practically cooed as he pushed Sherlock to lie down, straddling his lap as he went. "I'll take good care of you, don't worry."

Sherlock didn't know who initiated the kissing, but it was marvelous. Their tongues were soon tangling together, eliciting moans from the both of them. John was rapidly taking off his own clothes with the help of his now lover, breaking the kiss as little as possible. The detective tried to start with his own clothes, but John stopped him, pulling back.

"Oh no," he growled, nibbling at the pale neck in front of him. "I'm taking care of you, remember?" Sherlock could only give his assent incoherently.

John took his time stripping the lankier man, kissing and biting as he went. He noticed Sherlock struggling with where to put his hands, and moved them to his own blond locks. He moaned as Sherlock pulled tight. The detective retracted his hands, afraid to hurt his doctor, but John just pulled the hands back.

"Don't be afraid to pull, love, it feels so good," he said before finishing undressing the man.

He eyed his prize, laid out sacrificially in front of him. Sherlock was panting as he watched him, pupils blown wide. His skin was flushed a lovely shade of pink, with the exception of his cock. John couldn't help but take a taste of the engorged purple flesh, licking at the pre-cum that was steadily leaking out. "Mine," he growled. Sherlock's hands tightened in his hair.

Reluctantly, John moved away from his treat and slid up the bed, making sure his body rubbed against the other's as he grabbed the lube from his drawer. He held it up at eye level. "Do you want to prepare me or should I?"

Sherlock bit his lip. "I don't know how."

"Hmm, wanna watch then?" John laughed lightly as Sherlock nodded eagerly. "Sit up against the head board." John turned around as Sherlock moved, so his legs were still around the man's lap, but he was facing the opposite direction. Sherlock could only stare at the view presented to him; the rosebud winked at him in anticipation. The detective spread John's cheeks apart for a better view, causing the doctor to moan as he covered his own fingers in the lube.

It was hard for the detective to contain himself as he watched John slide first one finger and then another in quick succession, pumping them in and out. It baffled him that something so basic could drive his own heart rate skyrocketing; it wasn't even being done to him. John slid another finger in, and as he spread them apart, Sherlock couldn't hold back steady moans anymore.

"You like that, baby?" John husked, and Sherlock could only nod, despite the doctor not being able to see him. He obviously understood, however, if his next statement meant anything. "You think you can help now? Slide a finger in next to mine."

Sherlock complied, and he had to hold back his orgasm. That would have been embarrassing; they had barely begun. John was just so hot and tight, even with his love of big objects. After a few moments Sherlock slid another finger in; that was five now in total.

"I think I'm oh god I'm ready for y-you," John said after a few more minutes. He turned around to face Sherlock again. They took advantage of the position to kiss again and again, rubbing their hands wherever they could reach on the other's body. Sherlock was startled when he felt John position himself over his length. "Ready?"

"Condom?"

"I don't have any your size."

"Fuck it, I'm clean, I assume you are? Good."

The detective pulled John until he was sliding down onto him. It was wonderful; he couldn't remember it feeling like this when he lost his virginity, but that had been such a long time ago. This was John, though, his lovely perfect John. Sherlock didn't dare move.

Soon John was settled with Sherlock all the way inside; there, he panted for a bit, getting used to the feeling. Never had he had someone or something this big inside of him, and he reveled in it. It was a dream come true; he never thought he would be able to have his love life and his sex life coincide so spectacularly. He ran his hand through Sherlock's hair.

"It's alright, now, baby. We can move now." John punctuated this with a roll of his hips, causing both to moan. John continued to move, trying to find that one spot…there. It wasn't too difficult, and he practically screamed. Sherlock's hands tightened on his hips, eyes wide with fright. "It's okay, Sherlock, it's more than ok. It feels so so good." The detective relaxed, letting John continue his ministrations.

The pace grew frantic, Sherlock himself thrusting up once he was sure he wasn't hurting his lover. Letting go, something in him snapped and he rolled them over, settling on top of John and thrusting in hard. John screamed again, and Sherlock had just enough sense to make sure it was from pleasure before continuing his rapid thrusts. John's legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him in closer, the same with his arms around his shoulders. His nails ripped into his pale skin. Sherlock grunted in satisfaction, biting John's neck all over. None was enough to break skin, but they would definitely leave bright purple bruises.

It wasn't long before Sherlock was coming, and after a few more thrusts so was John. They lay like that for a while, calming down. John started giggling. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him wearily. "It's nothing. I just imagined what everyone's faces at the yard would look like if they saw us now; more specifically, the big guy down under." He giggled again.

Sherlock just shook his head, and moved to get off, but he was having difficulties. Oh right, he had forgotten about that. Really, he didn't know how he would ever think properly again…

"Are you stuck?" John asked incredulously.

"Just for a little while," Sherlock soothed. "My anatomy is a little…different."

"We've already established that."

"That, too. It's just...that particular part of my anatomy is more heavily influenced by my…canine attributes."

John was silent for a bit before it clicked. "Are you saying…really?"

"Yes, I have a bulbourethral gland."

John giggled but stopped and soothed Sherlock with kisses when the man glared and turned red. "It's fine, I just didn't expect it." John yawned. "How long will it take?"

"I don't know. When I first copulated it took…twenty minutes and forty-seven seconds."

"Well, settle in then. I won't stay awake much longer."

Sherlock carefully rolled over on his back, relieving the pressure off of John's hip flexors. He quite liked having the doctor spread on top of him, huffing into his neck.

Yes, Sherlock was quite pleased, but that was nothing compared to the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: You Always Forget Mary, Don't You?

A/N: Aaaaand here's the last one! Sorry I'm not posting longer a/n's, my glasses are driving me crazy. I swear, you snap off one leg…

WARNING: Smut and fluff! Aaah yeah

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Sherlock.

Sherlock woke up with a content yawn as the sun came up, muscles aching in unexpected places. He was quite warm, too. A survey of the situation apprised him to the fact that John was still on top of him, and Sherlock was still inside him. His cock started twitching to life. He couldn't hold back a few thrusts, but it was okay; they were too gentle to wake up John, who only gave a quiet moan. And snuggled more.

John was amazing, Sherlock thought, as proven last night. He believed what the doctor had said, of course, when he said he would be content with whatever the detective gave him. That was just how John was. He gave all of himself and expected little in return. He complained sometimes, yes, but that was with the little things. For the things that mattered, he was, well, a soldier.

This was something else entirely, though.

His John wanted him. His John lusted after him. Where Sherlock only saw a beast, John saw beauty. Sherlock had never felt so wanted, so loved in his life by someone who wasn't related. He really shouldn't have been surprised; this was his John, who called him genius instead of freak, who took care of him, who loved him.

The sound of chattering voices downstairs drifted up, and Sherlock frowned. Who would be here this early? As one voice became louder, the detective's face brightened.

Mary was coming up the stairs, berating John as she went.

Sherlock made sure to pull down the sheets.

The blonde woman barged in without knocking, the irritated smile on her face freezing as she took in the scene. Sherlock smiled pleasantly.

"Hello, Mary," he said. "As you can see, your services will no longer be required. I am more than capable of taking care of all his needs."

She gaped, tears filling her eyes.

"I-I don't understand."

"Of course you don't," Sherlock soothed. "I suspect you are too simple minded to comprehend."

Wordlessly she turned around, heading back down the stairs. Sherlock noticed she did not leave the living room. She's probably hoping to talk to John when he wakes up, the detective thought. Time for more fun.

John started shifting and nuzzling, woken up by the rumbles from Sherlock's chest. "Wassit, Sh'ock?"

"Mmm, just enjoying this beautiful morning," Sherlock growled seductively, making a few pointed thrusts. John moaned delightedly, rubbing back. Sherlock rolled them over, and started fucking his lover in earnest.

Despite being only half-awake, John was just as loud as he was last night, maybe even louder. He made no move to hold back his screams of pleasure, and Sherlock only encouraged him to get louder. When the doctor screamed, "Harder, yes fuck me Sherlock please!" the door downstairs finally slammed shut, and Sherlock came, bringing John with him.

They got comfortable again, trading lazy kisses. After a few minutes, John asked, "Sherlock? Was that the door I heard?"

Sherlock grinned. "Yes. John dear, you've forgotten all about Miss Morstan once again."

Sherlock spent the entire morning convincing John why he shouldn't be angry.


End file.
